


Drinking Again

by zoellick



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Established Relationship, Grantaire is a Mess, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, im english lol so it’s set in england for my own sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoellick/pseuds/zoellick
Summary: When Grantaire is sad, he likes to sneak out at night and get drunk.





	Drinking Again

**Author's Note:**

> ya lol the title is frank sinatra bc i love his voice

Grantaire took a long drag from his ciggy, eyes rolling back into his skull when the bitter taste hit his tongue. It was heaven for him. He blew the smoke out and watched the wind carry it away into the night sky, far away from where he was. Grantaire thought what it’d be like to be as inconsistent as the wind, an everlasting force of nature. To feel that free, he would die for. He reached for the smoke in front of him; it looked soft to touch, yet slipped through his fingers. The night air was cold, the sort of cold that woke you up as you’re getting drowsy. He liked the way it prickled against his skin, just like those pin art toys he had as a kid. He remembered pressing his face into it and laughing at the funny impression it made of him. Looking back on himself, young and carefree, he wanted to return to that and feel the wind on his face as he ran in the playground away from the kid who was the ‘bulldog’. It had been so long since he’d played that game. British Bulldog it had been called originally and then Wall Tag when the teachers banned it. Bullshit, Grantaire remembered thinking and getting angry all over again, he sucked at his wine bottle like a baby to a breast.

“I hate it when you do that,” Grantaire didn’t even have to look up to know who would be standing before him, a judgmental look plastered on his heavenly face. He hadn’t heard Enjolras approach, which was worrying. Despite how little he seemed to care about this shit school, he didn’t want to get expelled. “I don’t like it when you’re drunk.”

Grantaire looked up with a crooked smile splitting his face open, “But doesn’t it make everything so damn interesting?” Enjolras sat on the gravel beside him, probably making a point about ignoring the question, but Grantaire didn’t mind- he’d meant for it to be rhetorical, anyway. The silence was a grateful lapse, but still made him wonder: did Éponine send him, or did he come of his own volition? It wouldn’t surprise him either way, Grantaire was generally an easy person to find, and so fucking predictable. Sometimes he wishes he could be that ‘man of mystery’, with all the complex layers and intriguing stories. There was nothing intriguing about Grantaire. He liked to drink, he liked to smoke and get high. He liked to paint and draw. He loved Enjolras. His life was an open book. He gulped down the rest of the wine.

It was quiet again, no more buzzing in his ears. Grantaire wished he hadn’t finished the bottle so quickly; he had never felt as lonely as he did then. Even with Enjolras by his side, so close the hairs on his arms tickled his skin. He let loose a big salty tear, one of those crocodile tears. Enjolras put his hand on his, the warmth shocking Grantaire. “Don’t touch me.” He snapped and Enjolras moved immediately, leaving a shivering imprint on the back of his hand, like when you take the duvet off in the morning.

“Sorry.” Enjolras said quietly, like he, too, was about to start crying. Grantaire wanted to apologise, tell him it’s all right, and it’s just the alcohol, it always makes him jumpy. He wanted to reach out and pull Enjolras’ golden curls foreword and kiss him right on his lips. But, he didn’t. He let the silence hang in the air like a curse. Another tear came rolling down his face, following the snail-trail path the other left. Grantaire imagined anemones growing around him, springing up purple, white, red. He imagined one perfectly placed behind Enjolras’ ear and choked with a sob. He ground his skull into the brick wall behind him, wanting to feel pain, instead of the numbness that enveloped his body.

A sharp snap. “Grantaire.” He blinked and looked into those eyes, _those **eyes**_. And drunk though he was, drunker more he gained, just by looking. The fiery determination shone through them, the same kind he’d have when in an argument. No, a debate, Enjolras would insist on calling it. Even those terrible arguments they’d had so many times. It stung to remember certain words and phrases, but it was easy to forget with wine and weed. His expression collapsed into a tiredness Grantaire had never seen before and he supposed he should remember that look for his inevitable paintings. “It’s getting late,” Enjolras whispered, voice as small as a child’s, “we should go back to the dorms. Before Lamarque catches us.” In that moment, his bed seemed so far away, but Enjolras was right, he was always right. God, he’d never admit that one out loud.

“I’ll need-” Grantaire hated asking for something, he hated talking about himself when it wasn’t that overconfident drawl he spurted out in front of les amis. Les Amis, Grantaire mentally capitalised. He struggled over the choice of word. _Help? Assistance? You?_

Enjolras seemed to understand, however, putting his hand out to help Grantaire stand. He pulled him up, the drunkard, an arm around his waist, escorting him back to his bed. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. “I love you, you know.” Enjolras said, delicately, eyes looking over at Grantaire only once. He didn’t doubt the truth in the words and smiled. Enjolras must be pretty fucked up too if he loved someone like him. He didn’t mind, though. He allowed himself to be selfish and take all the love he could get.

“You’re bonkers,” Grantaire did laugh then, the deep, throaty kind. “I love you, too, Enjolras, I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> the anemone bit kinda has meaning but it’s a loose link so..
> 
> anyway thank you for reading!!
> 
> check out my [tumblr](http://lesbianpomfrey.tumblr.com/)


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